Dust and Shadow
by chaotic.souljam
Summary: In a kingdom that has forgotten magic, young heiress Lucy Heartphilia struggles with the demands of Magnolian society while striving to keep everything the same with her childhood friend Loke.
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

A/N: I do not own Fairy Tail.

Edit: reuploaded because of there seemed to have been problems with the first uploading...

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_Once upon a time, the land was overrun with savage beasts, forcing humans to take refuge in dark caves. The beasts had seemingly sprung from nowhere and their horns and claws and immense strength threatened to overwhelm mankind and bring about its demise. But just as when humans had lost almost all hope, a brave young man stepped forth, wielding the magic of the heavens._

_At his side was a woman with flaming red hair gifted in the arts of war. Together, they led the counterattack against the beasts. After years of fighting, they finally triumphed over their enemies. The people hailed the young man their hero king. He, in turn, chose the crimson-haired woman to rule as his queen._

_However, on the day of the coronation, a jealous witch who had wanted to become queen cast a curse on the new sovereigns, dooming them to eternal sorrow. The warrior queen took sick and, a few days later, died. The king mourned her for years, eventually growing weaker and frailer until one day, he left the kingdom to his most trusted friend and disappeared._

_

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_

"What? He just disappears?" a young boy of around nine asked exasperatedly.

He sat on the carpeted floor beside a four-poster bed upon which a little girl with shining blond hair lay with her head propped up against the headboard. The girl, who looked to be a few years younger, shrugged and closed the book she held with a soft thump. Her tiny fingers traced the golden filigree on the cover fondly. It was the first book she had ever had, and she adored its stories and the colorful pictures that seemingly brought the stories' characters to life.

"So, are there any other stories in there?" The boy ran a hand through his tousled ginger locks and yawned.

"Sure there are," the girl replied matter-of-factly. "But it's late so I'll read them to you tomorrow night, all right?"

"Mm," the boy nodded. He got up from his position by the bed and moved silently to a shut window. He lifted the latch and pulled the window pane up. The girl laid her head among jasmine-scented pillows, sighing contentedly.

"Good night, Loke," the girl whispered as she pulled her blankets up to her chin. Her soft voice carried across the room and the boy turned with a cheeky grin, his legs poised to jump off the window ledge. His worn work clothes rippled gently in the cool midnight breeze.

"Sweet dreams, Lucy."

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A/N: It's short but R&R please? ErzaKMystogan will play a pretty big part in the story so the two major pairings are them and LokeLucy...


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I do not own Fairy Tail.

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She crouched behind one of the rosebushes dotted around the famous garden pool of the Lilica family, peeking nervously through the thorny branches. It was a magnificent piece of architecture, the pool, inlaid with semi-precious stones that glinted in the pale moonlight. In its center was elegant marble depicting a young man in the act of capturing a woman. The woman's outstretched fingers burst into leafy branches, as if transforming into a tree to escape the man's clutches. The statue was exquisitely carved; the subjects more flesh than cold stone. Lucy would have loved to admire it more thoroughly but that would have to wait. She was here for a purpose other than sight-seeing. She sighed and focused her attention once more on the women situated in various positions around the pool.

Lady Karen Lilica, daughter of the late Duke of Avignon and clearly the hostess of tonight's meeting, stood surrounded by avid listeners, among them her constant companions, Lady Ultear of Ur and Miss Catherine Down, whom most simply addressed as Lady Angel because of her preference for white lace dresses. Lucy strained to hear their hushed voices.

"—very old. His Majesty is near death, they say," Karen said smugly, obviously sure that she alone was privy to this piece of information. Lucy gasped. Fortunately, the sound was drowned out by the rather vocal reactions of the other young ladies present. She—along with everyone in the kingdom, she assumed—had been led to believe that the king was still hale despite his advanced age! How, then, did Karen come by these news? She heard Juvia Loxar, heiress to a distant estate on the outskirts of the kingdom, voice that same concern.

"Well," Karen—Lucy giggled at her nerve to address Lady Lilica so familiarly, even if it was just in her own thoughts—tossed her head haughtily. "I heard it from Hibiki of course. He _is_ one of King Ferdinand's advisers now, you know."

No one could miss the fact that she had, by calling the aforementioned man by his first name, implied that they were more than just mere acquaintances. Lucy rolled her eyes. It was typical of Karen to flaunt her latest catch. And as she expected, the group erupted into muffled giggles and conversation shifted to a discussion about the most eligible bachelors of the season.

Lucy sighed. So much for the secret meeting Karen and Angel had been taunting her about every chance they got. So what if she wasn't invited? All they did was gossip! Lucy ignored the little voice in her head saying that she _did_ care because not being invited meant she wasn't part of the aristocracy that her father had unceremoniously thrust her into.

She crept slowly towards the small gap in the hedge she had found earlier. It was how she had gotten in; it was either that or climb the tall walls behind the massive Lilica mansion.

The hedge was still quite far off. But once she got through the hole, she would emerge in front of the Lilica estate. After that was easy—she could simply disappear into the shadows of the town and make the trek back home on foot. She was glad she had filched some clothes from the servants' quarters. It would have been very difficult sneaking around wearing a petticoat.

A sharp crack brought her out of her thoughts. She looked down and saw that she had stepped on a dry branch. Lucy froze, hoping that no one had heard the noise.

"What was that? Ultear's soft voice brought her companions' conversation to a halt.

Lucy groaned silently. She should have been more careful! She hastened as much as she could without giving her location away. Surely they wouldn't chase her! They were ladies, not runners. That thought comforted her as she inched closer to escape.

"I shall call my driver to investigate," Lucy heard Ultear say. She frantically estimated how far she was from the hedge—two hundred or so meters—and quickly determined that she would not make it to at her current pace. There was only one viable option.

"But, Lady Ultear, no one must know about this meeting but us," Karen fretted.

"My driver is trustworthy. He will not talk," Ultear assured her. Lucy's ears picked up the sound of rustling skirts and assumed that Ultear was on her way to fetch her driver. She knew that now was her chance to make a break for it but fear of getting caught trespassing had frozen her limbs. She looked around frantically for any place to hide. Lucy spotted a sturdy-looking tree to her right and decided to climb. She forced her muscles to move.

She was half-way up—thank goodness she was wearing trousers!—when she heard someone among the rosebushes. The rose leaves rustled as they were carefully pushed aside. Lucy scrambled up the rest of the way and tried to quiet her erratic breathing. Hopefully, she wouldn't be easy to spot among the tree branches.

The man—he must be the driver Ultear had been speaking of—was slowly but steadily making his way towards her hiding place. From what she could make out in the darkness, he was young—maybe around her age—and had quite long and messy hair that made her wonder how exactly he had gotten hired as one of Ultear's servants. He didn't look quite respectable enough.

Lucy waited, hardly daring to breathe as he passed her without looking up. She shivered. Something didn't seem right about this man. His movements were too much like a predator hunting its prey and his eyes had a strange light in them that told her he was enjoying the hunt. As she watched him move farther, she prayed that she would never have to meet him again. Once she thought, he was far enough, she carefully made her way down the tree.

Lucy weighed her options. She could try and make the climb up the mansion's rear walls or risk going back to the gap in the hedge in the hopes that the man hadn't found it yet. She glanced over her shoulder at the walls towering behind the mansion and decided that she could never make it over those walls.

"Well, that settles it," Lucy shrugged, trying not to think of what would happen if the man _had_ found the hole already.

She darted from shadow to shadow as nimbly as her body would allow and eventually reached the gap in the hedge. Her eyes quickly scanned the immediate area and saw no sign of Ultear's driver. Lucy let out a breath of relief and began crawling through the hole.

"You! Halt!" a masculine voice called out. Lucy was almost out but her left leg was still on the wrong side of the hedge. She bit back a yelp when she felt large hands grab her ankle, pulling her back. She turned her face away. It wouldn't do to risk a chance of being recognized. She thrashed about and felt her foot come into contact with something. Judging from the man's cry of pain followed by a string of colorful curses that would have burned the ears of even the bawdiest sailor, she had gotten in a lucky hit. The hands on her ankle loosened enough for her to manage to shake them off. She didn't pause to think which part she had kicked; she only hoped it hurt him enough to delay him for the few seconds she needed to make her escape.

Lucy threw her whole body forward, successfully clearing the hedge. Without missing a beat, she scrambled to her feet and tore down the darkened street. She felt hysterical laughter bubbling up inside her, adrenaline pumping through her veins as her boots beat against the cobblestones. She got off the main street—the deserted streets saved her from having to explain why she was out at this hour—as soon as it branched out into smaller ones.

Footsteps in pursuit snapped her out of her daze. She glanced back in alarm. Ultear's driver was following her!

She gasped out a curse then winced. Her legs were starting to feel heavy as the adrenaline wore off and exhaustion set in. Already she could hear the man closing the distance between them as her pace began to slow. She needed to shake him off. But how? He had managed to keep up with her even as she ran through the winding back-alleys of Magnolia.

A hand shot out from the shadows of the alley to her right, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her into the darkness. Her momentum shifted and whipped her into the person who had grabbed her. Immediately, her captor's hand came up to clamp against her mouth, effectively silencing her. The harsh breathing against her ear, the sinewy muscles of the arm that had encircled her waist and trapped her against her captor, the hard ridges of the chest she felt at her back, and the scent of salty sweat and maleness that enveloped her told her that her captor was a man.

Fear flooded Lucy's senses. Only men of unsavory character lurked in these alleys at this time of the night. She closed her eyes against tears threatening to fall. If only she had listened when he told her that this wasn't a good idea at all!

'_Loke…'_

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A/N: And the story finally begins! This is the first real chapter of the story since the previous one was just a prologue. I'm planning to update on a weekly schedule just like The Wizard of FT (yes, it's shameless plugging so I'd appreciate it if you read that too).

Til next time then!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I do not own Fairy Tail.

Just to make everything clear, even if the story is set in Edolas, Hibiki and Lucy are not their Edo counterparts; they're still Earthland Lucy and Earthland Hibiki (does Hibiki even _have_ a counterpart in Edolas?) As for Loke, there's no Edo Loke as far as I know so no problem about that. For all other characters other than Mystogan and Erza K., assume that they're their Earthland selves. If not, I'll put it in before the chapter.

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He listened to Karen Lilica smugly proclaiming that the king was dying and shook his head. His lips curled into a grim smile hidden behind a long scarf that hid most of his features; everything was going according to plan. He had made a risky gamble by telling Lady Lilica—he refused to address her as familiarly as she did him—the true state the king was in but he knew that this was his best chance to expose the traitors in their midst. As the king's spymaster, he had been privy to information from reliable sources that someone was planning to assassinate His Majesty and that, as a loyal subject to King Ferdinand of Edolas, he could not allow.

Hibiki watched the ladies by the garden pool and couldn't help but wonder whether any of them knew that speaking of the king's death could be construed as treason. A particularly loud burst of giggling and fawning over different gentlemen—him included—told him that these women, no, these _girls_ cared for nothing other than fancy dresses and dashing gentlemen. They didn't even seem to appreciate the magnificently rendered marble figures of Apollo and Daphne positioned in the heart of the pool.

His eyes were drawn to two ladies who didn't seem to be as engrossed in the gossiping as the others. Juvia Loxar looked uncomfortable among her peers, unsure of what to say. Ultear of Ur, however, seemed to be content in simply listening to the conversation with an enigmatic smile on her blood-red lips. Hibiki's expression darkened; he had always felt that there was something not quite right about her. However, he had more pressing matters to tend to tonight like readying safeguards for the king in case any attempts were made on his life.

He sighed, his hand going to the rope and hook dangling at his belt. Hibiki inwardly groaned at the strenuous climb he'd have to make to get over the rear walls and off the Lilica estate. He shifted his weight and prepared to sneak off.

He had scarcely moved a few meters when he detected movement to his right. He instantly tensed, his eyes narrowed in an effort to pierce the darkness and see what—or who, he thought grimly—is hidden in the shadows of the trees. If there was a foreign spy who had heard of the king's deteriorating health, not even Hibiki was confident that he could deflect all attacks on his king. He already had his hands full with the enemies within; if assassins from the neighboring countries struck in order to take advantage of the king's weakness, it could be the end of the royal Renzdeamark line of Edolas.

He moved carefully, years of training in the art of stealth allowing him to get close to the figure crouching behind the rosebushes. He could now see that the figure was slight, dressed in coarse brown trousers and an ill-fitting white shirt that was obviously too big for him. A dark cap was pulled over his head and a blue handkerchief hid his features so that only his eyes were visible. He was still puzzling over the spy's odd dress—the handkerchief looked too delicate, the sort ladies carried around—when the boy moved, cautiously crawling away. Hibiki remained still, deciding to see first where he was headed. When the boy was a few paces away, Hibiki began to follow, careful not to make any noise that would alert the boy he was trailing or the ladies seated around the garden pool to his presence.

Unfortunately, the boy did not seem to be as adept in sneaking around as Hibiki was. A dry branch snapped under the boy's boot-clad foot. Training kicked in and Hibiki scaled the nearest tree in seconds without so much as a rustle. He shook his head. Who was this boy? He was either an inept spy or he wasn't one at all. But if he hadn't come to spy, what had he come for? And if he _was_ a spy, which Hibiki was beginning to doubt, why spy on a bunch of lady aristocrats gossiping? That wouldn't make sense unless this boy's master knew of Hibiki's plan to root out conspirators within the court.

Hibiki heard Lady Ultear call for her driver to investigate. He uttered a silent curse. Lady Ultear had blood ties to their neighboring country of Lyr, and he had reason to believe that her loyalty to Lyr ran deeper than the loyalty she pledged to Edolas upon assuming her late mother's position at court. This wouldn't have posed much of a threat if Lyr was allied to Edolas but relations between the two kingdoms had been strained as of late. Even worse was that Ultear had recently been appointed as part of the diplomatic party formed to help smooth things out between the two kingdoms. This had been what pushed him to get close enough to Karen Lilica to tell her of the king's ill health; he knew he had to make it believable to make sure this information found its way to Lady Ultear. He hoped to provoke her—and whoever she was in league with—into action so that he could capture them all at once. But if he was caught here, Lady Ultear was clever enough to put the pieces together and figure out it was a trap. If his plan failed, the conspirators will most probably have the His Majesty murdered then blame it on the king's ailing health.

His gaze followed the boy's frantic search for a hiding place. His panicked movements confused Hibiki even more. A trained spy—even a novice one—would have known that people rarely look up when looking for something. It was why he had climbed this tree. Besides, there was nowhere to hide on the ground.

After a few moments, the boy realized that. Hibiki's eyes widened fractionally when the boy quickly crept to his tree and began to climb. He arranged his scarf more securely over the lower half of his face, a precaution in case he was discovered. Of all the trees the boy could have chosen, he had to choose this one! He watched the boy's ascent carefully, inching away so as not to betray his presence. The boy stopped on a branch just below him and from his vantage point he could see blonde hair peeking out from under the cap on his head. Hibiki listened to the boy's erratic breathing and hoped that he wouldn't do anything that would give their hiding place away.

Rustling in the rosebushes caught their attention, causing them to stiffen almost simultaneously. Hibiki looked toward the source of the noise and felt his blood run cold.

The man currently searching for them was Zancrow, if Hibiki wasn't mistaken. His spies in Lyr had informed him that this man was one of the mercenaries of Lyr's King Hades. That he was Ultear's supposed driver for tonight was enough proof that Ultear was indeed a threat to the throne.

Zancrow prowled steadily towards their hiding place. The cruel smirk on his face told Hibiki that he was enjoying this, savoring the feel of stalking his prey. The boy shivered and Hibiki felt a stab of pity for him. Foreign spy or not, he looked far too young for this kind of work.

Visibly unaware of their presence, Zancrow moved past their tree. Hibiki waited until the boy had climbed down and was far enough not to notice him. He then nimbly leapt down, bent his knees to absorb the impact, and landed noiselessly on the damp earth. He followed the boy to a gap in the hedges positioned in front of the Lilica estate. This was obviously how he had gotten in.

Hibiki studied the hole and estimated that he should have no problem enlarging it enough for him to crawl through. He decided to wait a few moments after the boy had gone through to make sure he didn't know he was being followed. Hopefully, he would lead Hibiki to whoever it was he served.

But just as the boy was almost out, Zancrow's voice rang out, calling for the boy to stop. By bringing attention to the intruder, Zancrow was probably hoping to enlist the help of any nearby servants.

"Tch," Hibiki gritted his teeth. He couldn't afford to have Zancrow and Ultear capture this boy. The risk that the boy's masters would ally themselves with Lyr if given the chance was too high. He would have to find a way to incapacitate Zancrow and capture the boy himself. He watched Zancrow grab the boy's ankle. Taking this as his cue, he started forward, his gloved hands clenching as he readied himself for a fight.

"Argh!" Zancrow yelled, followed by a flood of curses as he fell to his side on the ground. Hibiki winced; the boy had kicked him where it hurt. Hibiki almost felt sympathy for him.

Almost.

Hibiki saw his chance as Zancrow was still rolling on the ground in agony. The boy, having freed himself from Zancrow's grip, had already slipped away. Hibiki moved swiftly to the gap, unmindful of the fact that Zancrow could see him. He was certain the scarf around his face and his dark undistinguished clothes—his usual guise when he had to do some investigating of his own—would keep Zancrow from identifying him if they ever had incident to meet.

With quick, precise flicks of the hook at his belt, he widened the hole and slipped through it headfirst. Hibiki slid out easily, his eyes picking out the boy's receding figure. He threw out his hands to break his fall, grateful for the gloves protecting his hands from the worst of the impact. In less than a second, he was on his feet and running in pursuit of the fleeing boy. At his back, he could hear Zancrow running after them.

Hibiki, hiding among the numerous shadows of the city, followed the boy into the city's back-alleys. Victory was within his grasp. He had spent most of his boyhood prowling the alleys after dark on errands for his father, the previous spymaster. He knew the windings of these streets like the back of his hand.

The boy ran into a particularly wide alley, occasionally looking over his shoulder to check if he had lost his pursuer. None of his actions suggested that he was aware of Hibiki pursuing him as well.

Hibiki could see that the boy was tiring and that Zancrow would catch up to him soon. In a split-second decision, he darted away and took a route that would allow him to overtake the boy. He emerged in a narrow shadowed alley that connected to the one the boy was running through. Listening to the boy's footfalls, he waited silently for his chance.

The footsteps were getting louder as the boy neared. Hibiki tensed in anticipation. The boy shot past him and he grabbed, immobilized, and silenced him in one smooth, practiced motion.

Zancrow ran past them, his increased pace indicating that he thought he had merely lost sight of his quarry. Hibiki slowed his breathing but didn't relax his hold on his captive. Once Zancrow was out of sight, he let out a small sigh of relief. Now all he had to do was take this boy back to the castle for questioning. He would oversee the boy's interrogation himself to make sure that he wouldn't be subjected to torture; Hibiki refused to condone such barbaric methods. It wasn't effective anyway; more often than not information ripped from tortured victims wasn't reliable.

As he held his captive, he couldn't help but notice a strangeness about this boy, a sense of both softness and strength in the way he tried to mask his fear by containing his trembling. It was oddly familiar, like a dream he'd forgotten in the harsh light of morning. He couldn't quite put a finger on it.

Lost in thought, he didn't realize that he had loosened his grip on his captive. The boy saw an opening and simultaneously stomped furiously on his foot and snapped his head up to smash against his jaw. The boy was just the right height—his head barely came up to Hibiki's shoulder—for the maneuver to be effective. With a cry of pain, Hibiki released the boy who promptly fled and was fast out of sight.

Hibiki nursed his jaw with one hand, the other pressed against the grimy wall behind him. He berated himself for his carelessness which resulted in the boy, a potential danger to the monarchy, getting away.

He spotted a dark blue cloth by his feet; it was the handkerchief that had hidden the boy's face. Hibiki bent over and picked it up. It was fine silk, clearly expensive. No proper spy would carry anything this easily identifiable, which implies that there was more to the boy than he had initially thought.

He examined the embroidered initials—an L and an H, and family crest—a winged heart cupped in a delicate hand—on the cloth. He raised an eyebrow, recognizing both the initials and the crest. No wonder his captive felt familiar; they had met last week at the ball held to celebrate Princess Wendy's birthday.

He loosely folded the handkerchief and tucked it into his pocket. He would return it to its owner soon and find out exactly why Miss Heartphilia had been spying on Karen Lilica.

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A/N: Loke was supposed to be in this chappie but I decided to postpone his appearance until the next chapter. Hopefully, he'd have a lot of screentime then :D

R&R guys! I didn't want to have to take the next chapter hostage for reviews but my sister has been trying to convince me to wait for a few more reviews before updating. Since I like having feedback from readers (everyone does, I think), I'll probably wait for at least five reviews for this chapter before posting the next even if it throws me off the weekly schedule I set for my sister for the bad influence ^^

However, I only upload chapters and check my mail on weekends so new chapters will be up only on weekends (GMT +8:00)

**Announcement for those also reading Wizard of FT**:

No chapter this week, unfortunately. I'm having a bit of writer's block. I know what I want to write but I can't seem to write it properly or in a way that I'm satisfied with :(


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I do not own Fairy Tail.

Well..The last chapter didn't get five reviews but since it got four I decided to upload the next chappie anyway xD.

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Lucy ran as fast as her feet could take her back to the Heartphilia manor. Her elation at having successfully escaped from danger was immediately dampened when the cold wind on her face alerted her to the loss of her handkerchief. She slowed to a stop a few blocks away from her destination. Lucy thought back to the night's recent events—infiltrating the Lilica estate, getting chased by Ultear's horrible driver, getting caught by some man in an alley…

Realization dawned on her. She had lost her handkerchief in that alley when she was escaping from the clutches of that man! Lucy bit her lip, briefly toying with the idea of going back to retrieve it but decidedly dismissed it as an extremely foolish thing to do. The man would most likely have found it already anyway. It was a nice handkerchief, fine blue silk with golden threading. She imagined it would fetch quite a price if sold to one of the shops in the poorer end of Magnolia. Hopefully, that man would do just that, sell it to a shop where no one would recognize the crest of a relatively unimportant family.

Lucy kept telling herself this as she flitted through shadows on her way back home, trying to ignore a tingling sense that something had gone wrong.

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He awoke with a start and looked around, his movements sluggish. His eyes widened at the sight of the empty four-poster bed beside him. She was gone!

He struggled to get up from his seated position as he tried to recall how he had fallen asleep. He vaguely remembered trying to talk Lucy out of her plan to sneak out and then deciding to stay and keep watch until it was too late for her to make it to the meeting. He probed his mind further but couldn't hold his thoughts together long enough to make sense of them. Loke pressed a palm against his heated forehead, wincing at its unusual warmth. He hadn't been feeling well these past few days.

His footing unsteady, he stumbled toward the window, a single thought resonating within him: _Find Lucy._

His eyes, his skin, his whole being burned from within. He undid the top button on his shirt and loosened his collar, hoping to ease the heat flaring across his torso even as his hands and feet turned cold and clammy.

'_I have to go…'_

He fell to one knee. Undeterred, Loke reached desperately for the window. He had to find her, make sure she was safe. The window blurred, rippling in his vision, as if he was looking at it through flowing water.

'_Have to get up…'_

Loke shook his head weakly. He could feel his mind slowing. On hands and knees now, he could barely focus on his own labored breathing. His limbs gave, unable to support him any longer. Loke hit the carpeted floor with a dull thud, the whole world falling away into darkness.

'_Lucy…'_

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_The locket burned coldly against his chest, rhythmically swinging back and forth as he walked down a dim candle-lit corridor. He had no destination in mind; he knew only that he had to keep walking._

_Loke clasped a hand around the locket, bringing it up high enough for him to gaze upon it. Its cover, embossed with a golden butterfly, shone faintly in the flickering candlelight. He ran his fingers across it, simultaneously feeling both the raised design on the front and the engravings adorning the back. A tiny knob sat on top of the locket. He pressed it, the familiarity of the action pulling at him with such ferocity he almost regretted it._

_The locket sprang open to reveal a tiny painting—masterfully rendered—of a woman, her hair the color of sun-kissed orange, her smile happy and with just a little touch of sadness. Loke felt himself mirror her smile._

'Mother…'

_A distant crashing snapped him out of his reverie. He broke into a run, spurred on by an inexplicable knowing that he had to reach the end of the corridor. A door slowly came into sight, looming ominously. As he neared it, its hinges creaked as the door swung open, inch by inch, as if guided by unseen hands._

_He reached the doorway and peered into the thick darkness. No candles illuminated the room, the candlelight from the corridor seemingly unable to pierce the blackness within._

_A hand clamped around his ankle, its grip unforgiving. With a grimace, he looked down. A woman lay at his feet, her hair pooling around her like liquid gold bathed in firelight. He couldn't make out the features on her face, hidden from his view by her orange-gold tresses, but he knew the feel of her hands. These hands had wiped the cold sweat from his brow after a bad dream, had ruffled his hair fondly as she told him how proud she was of her little boy._

_Slowly, creakily, as if her muscled were stiff from disuse, she raised her head, pinning him with a gaze devoid of the warmth he had always attributed to her. Her eyes, once as blue as the sky and just as beautiful, glowed red with an internal hellish fire. Her lips curled sickeningly in a grotesque parody of a smile that rendered him immobile with fear. He stood motionless, unable to even pry himself from her deathly grip, watching with horrified fascination as this creature, which looked so much like his beloved mother yet was nothing like her, croaked his name over and over again in an eerily inhuman voice._

_"Loke…" Her cold hands crept up his legs, her waxy face looming ever closer to his._

_"Loke…" The voice was louder now, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth to splatter onto his shirt, onto the locket he had worn on a chain around his neck ever since his mother had entrusted it to him._

_"Loke…" A different voice, soft, the voice he knew to be his mother's, breathed into his ear. Mustering all the strength he could, he turned his head to its direction and felt soft strands of hair brush his cheek, detected the faintest whiff of peaches. His mother's favored perfume._

_The ascent of the creature stopped, her arms around his middle and burning demon eyes staring at the bloodstained locket. Loke's hand closed around it, feeling that he must protect it from this creature at all costs._

_The creature let out a piercingly shrill shriek, hair, skin, flesh falling away to reveal gleaming bone crawling with worms and maggots. Loke wrenched himself from the demon's grasp, scrambling away, back down the way he came._

_"The key!" A scream resounded in the corridor. Loke felt rather than heard the creature in pursuit. His legs pumped harder, faster, even as his hand clenched more tightly around the butterfly locket._

_He ran for what seemed like hours, the corridor stretching forever, until he felt skeletal fingers rake his back. Distracted, he stumbled and fell forward, twisting instinctively to land on his back. On the floor now, he stared despairingly up at the creature._

_Before his eyes, the demon's bony mask shifted into a visage both beautiful and cruel. It was the face burned into his memory, the face that had sneered down at his mother as she writhed in agony, coughing up blood until she breathed no more. The woman smiled, perfect, white teeth glinting with malice, and he was ten years old again, cradling his lifeless mother as he glared through tearful eyes at the woman who had snatched his mother from him._

_A hand reached out, flesh and skin creeping across to cover the bony fingers, and gripped his chin tight enough to hurt, forcing Loke to meet the woman's steely gaze._

_"Give it to me," she commanded._

_Loke shook his head, still unable to comprehend that he would never hear his mother laugh again, would never see her move again._

_"Where is the key?" She thrust a jeweled box—the one, he knew, his mother kept under her pillow every night—at him._

'She did this,' _he realized. However, knowing who was at fault—this woman screaming at him to open the box—brought only emptiness that threatened to swallow him whole. He knew he should be angry, lash out at this person, get revenge, anything to distract him from facing the reality that his mother was gone, but all he could do was stare at the box, its encrusted jewels winking mockingly at him._

_The woman, her face contorted with livid rage, grabbed a handful of his ginger locks, snarling at him to cooperate._

_"No…" he muttered. She yanked at his hair, pulling him up to her level. She slapped him so hard he blacked out for a second._

_"No!" He repeated, finally angry, furious that she wasn't content with taking his mother away. He wanted her to go away, go away so he could mourn his mother in peace. He thrashed about, screaming, "No! I don't even know what you want, just leave us alone, you evil—"_

* * *

Lucy sat in a rickety chair beside the bed where Loke lay in a fitful sleep, her forehead creased in concern. She had found him collapsed and burning with fever on her bedroom floor last night when she returned from the Lilica estate. It was fortunate, very fortunate indeed, that Porlyusica, her governess who roomed just a few doors from her bedroom, was well-versed in the art of healing. Granted, she hadn't been very pleased when she had opened the door and found Lucy dragging an unconscious Loke, begging her to do something, anything. She figured it was only the urgency of the situation that had stopped Porlyusica from lecturing her about proper lady-like behavior.

Loke jerked, drawing Lucy's attention back to him. She laced her fingers through his trembling ones, willing the fever to break so he could get better. Guilt gnawed at her; she was quite sure it was their almost nightly meetings that had caused him to fall sick. The weather had been getting cooler so she should have insisted that they postpone his lessons and resume maybe sometime during spring. Maybe she should have appealed to his chivalrous side and claimed that staying up late tired her. Or maybe she should have given him a coat or a shawl or told him that he needed to at least get a good night's sleep once in a while…

His hand tightened around hers and she could see his eyes moving restlessly behind closed eyelids. He was dreaming. Loke began muttering under his breath, growing more and more agitated. Lucy leaned in trying to make sense of his ramblings.

"No…don't know…leave…" He was delirious with fever, she realized. Sweat trickled profusely down his neck. Surely the fever was starting to break! Lucy grabbed the cloth hanging on the edge of the water basin on the nightstand beside the bed, running the only slightly damp cloth across his forehead, his face, his neck, wiping the sweat away before it dried and made him even sicker. Once she was satisfied that she had done enough, she dropped the cloth in the basin. Impulsively, her fingers tangled in Loke's damp hair; she had always wanted to do this but was too embarrassed to ask. Her other hand she rested on Loke's warm cheek, hoping her touch would soothe and calm him.

"It's all right, Loke. I'm here," she whispered, knowing he couldn't hear her but wanting to say it anyway. She took his hand in both of hers, lightly pressing her lips to his fingers.

He quieted, his breathing evening out until it was steady. Lucy smiled; the worst seems to have passed. She rested her head beside his, her hands still clasped around his fingers, the contrast between her soft skin and his callused palms making her wish that this would last just a little longer. Her eyes took him in, his unruly ginger hair, his flushed skin, his sharp features, and wondered why her heart seemed to beat in time with his.

* * *

A/N: This chapter is a bit longer than the previous ones (just a bit, though). Late update because of school stuff and a bit of writer's block after writing a chapter for Transcendent. Anyway, review please so that I feel motivated :) Umm...is Porlyusica really spelled like that?

For those waiting for MystoganErzaK, I_'m planning _to put Mystogan in the next chappie ;)


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: I do not own Fairy Tail.

Early Valentine's day present to you guys. It's not very romantic but it's the thought that counts, right? Was planning to write a Transcendent chapter but nothing came to mind. Instead I finished this. So, yeah :D

* * *

_He dreamed of smoldering fire and windswept scarlet hair. The crimson sky wept, its tears mingling with theirs. His hand slick with blood, her face streaked with sweat and tears, their love lost before it had even begun._

_Everything shattered into fragments of memory slowly dissolving into oblivion, sky and flames bleeding together until all he knew was salt and searing red._

* * *

Dawn's first light slipping past the thick branches of the tree he lay under roused him from his slumber. He checked if the cloth he wore to hide his face was still in place. It was. Good. One can never be too careful.

The dream occupied his thoughts as he made his way to their camp. He was no stranger to this kind of dream, the kind that made you wonder if it was really just a dream. He had been having them ever since he could remember but they seemed to occur more frequently nowadays. Again he wondered about the scarlet-haired woman who kept appearing in his dreams.

"Mystogan."

He raised his head in surprise. Upon reaching the camp, he had instinctively made his way to the master's wooden cabin hidden in the tall trees of Magnolia Forest. An old man sat on the table at the far end of the room, his wrinkled face frowning at him. Mystogan's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Had he done something wrong?

"Those darts are for your missions only. You are not to use them to put your comrades to sleep." The old man shook his head despairingly.

A wry smile crept across Mystogan's face. Judging from Master Makarov's stern expression, he knew what would follow: a long-winded lecture about the merits of interacting with the others instead of putting them to sleep whenever he walked among them. He looked down at the empty pouch he held in his hand, wondering if he would ever feel comfortable enough with Gray and the others that he could break the habit of resorting to sleeping darts just to avoid them. He adjusted his cloth mask, shifting slightly into a more comfortable position. Master Makarov's lectures were notoriously lengthy. He looked longingly at a nearby chair, fighting the urge to sink down onto it. If he sat down now, Master Makarov will probably take it as a sign of eagerness to listen to his sermon.

Master Makarov sighed, probably sensing that Mystogan was only half-listening and deciding to cut his lecture short.

"Well? How did your mission go?"

"Some of the new recruits are—"

"Oh, for goodness's sake! Take off that mask, will you? I can't hear you through that cloth," Master Makarov exclaimed impatiently.

Mystogan hesitated. The camp was secure; he didn't need to hide his identity here. Besides, he trusted Master Makarov implicitly. Banishing all traces of uncertainty, he gripped the cloth between his fingers and tugged it down, revealing his features. He kept his hood in place, a safeguard in case somebody was spying on them. The possibility was quite small but being overly cautious had saved his life on more than one occasion. Master Makarov nodded for him to continue his report.

"Some of the army's new recruits seem to be receptive to the Resistance's ideas. We may be able to convince them to act as our eyes and ears within the military."

"Is that so?" Master Makarov rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He hopped down from the table, muttering to himself as he considered what must be done next.

Unsure whether he was dismissed or not, Mystogan surreptitiously swallowed a yawn. Gathering information on the army's rookies was more tiring than it sounded especially since he couldn't masquerade as a fellow soldier because his birthmark—intricate dark lines, like a tattoo, around his right eye—was too recognizable. He'd had to keep out of sight, and trail the ones who seemed good candidates to be drafted into the Resistance.

Master Makarov stopped pacing, opting to sit at the table to scribble something on a piece of paper. Mystogan pulled out a list of the new soldiers that he deemed would be useful for the Resistance's cause and handed it to the master. He read it, nodding contemplatively.

"You'd better get more darts from the armory," he told Mystogan without looking up. "And get some rest. You have another mission tonight. Come here at dusk so I can give you your assignment." The final tone in his voice told Mystogan that he was dismissed.

He turned to go, eager to rest. Mystogan briefly considered stocking up on sleeping darts now but decided to take care of that later.

* * *

Mystogan lay on his cot, unable to sleep. It wasn't the sunlight from the open window that was keeping him awake; he never had trouble sleeping during the day before.

Sitting up, he grabbed a piece of charcoal and some paper and began to sketch. Drawing calmed him. Maybe it could help him sleep. His hand moved in practiced strokes as he allowed his mind to wander.

Done, he dropped the charcoal and lay back on the cot. He cushioned his head with an arm, staring up at the tear-stained face on the paper he held in his hand.

"Who are you?" he wondered, his eyes tracing the lines of the drawing. He shook his head, feeling foolish. Mystogan reached over to place the drawing with his other work, dropping it on top of the pile. He laid an arm across his eyes resolutely, determined to get to sleep.

* * *

"Next!"

Erza Knightwalker, recently appointed General of the army's second division, grinned in satisfaction at the dumbstruck look on the soldiers gathered around the training area. Clearly they hadn't thought she could hold her own against a soldier of the King's army because she was a woman. That her opponent was one of the more seasoned fighters, unlike most of her rookie audience, and she had still finished it in two moves served only to sweeten her victory. She glanced around, silently issuing a challenge to any soldier brave enough to fight her. Perhaps a decisive defeat would stop their gossiping about her like a bunch of society matrons. She hefted her claymore in her hands, waiting for an opponent.

A young man stepped forward, his hands around a flamberge in a two-handed grip. She raised an eyebrow at his unusual weapon choice; most soldiers used broadswords or longswords. The color of his hair—a pink unlike any color she'd ever seen on anyone before—surprised her, to say the least. Her hand came up to touch her scarlet hair musingly. It seemed she wasn't the only one born with such eye-catching hair.

Her opponent looked quite strong, with broad shoulders and lean muscled limbs. However, his sloppy stance and his unsteady blade betrayed his inexperience. This shouldn't take long.

"Whenever you're ready." Erza tightened her grip on her claymore, preparing to defend against the first attack. No sense in getting cocky. Best to let him attack first so she can study his movements and predict them more effectively. This wasn't her usual style—she preferred offense over defense—but she had to prove herself worthy of the rank that came with the Knightwalker name despite her being a woman.

He lunged, swinging his flamberge wildly. She sidestepped his attack without difficulty while inwardly shaking her head at his brashness. This kind of attacking with reckless abandon would get him killed on the battlefield in an instant.

The young man kept coming, his swings more brute force than technique. Their blades locked and Erza realized why he had chosen to use a flamberge. The undulating form of the blade ground against the straight edge of her claymore and sent shockwaves down to the hilt and to her hands, causing her grip to weaken. Coupled with his enormous upper body strength, it was only a matter of time before he disarmed her. It seemed a change of tactics was in order.

She pushed him back, breaking the contact between their weapons. A feint to the right and he fell for it, charging at where he thought she would be. Erza saw his eyes widen in realization a split-second later. Too late. She pulled one hand off the hilt of her claymore and used it as leverage as she bent down into a crouch and swept his feet out from under him, bringing him crashing down onto the packed dirt of the army's training grounds. His flamberge clattered to the ground and she kicked it out of his reach before he could even move to take it. She resumed her two-handed hold on her weapon. With her palm braced against the pommel of her sword, she poised to plunge the blade into his throat. Erza stopped her sword before it pierced skin, hovering just centimeters from his jugular. She smirked at the surprise etched on his face and the awed murmurs rippling through their audience. This display of her superior prowess should be enough to prove her mettle.

Erza pulled her blade back and sheathed it. She offered her hand to her opponent in a gesture of goodwill. He promptly grabbed it with a firm callused grip—a sign of diligent sword practice, she thought with approval—and jumped to his feet, an eager smile on his face. That was odd. She had expected him to slap her hand away and sulk about his loss to a woman.

"You really _are_ strong, Lady Knightwalker." He grinned at her. He walked over to where his sword lay and bent to pick it up. Their audience, sensing that the fun was over and it was time to begin training, dispersed and began pairing up to spar.

"_General _Knightwalker," she corrected automatically, still trying to make sense of his tone. There was no sarcasm that she could detect, only admiration. She hadn't expected it would be this easy to gain respect.

"General Knightwalker, then," he responded gaily. "I look forward to sparring with such a strong opponent again someday."

Listening to his familiar way of addressing her, she considered if it would be prudent to have him punished for insubordination. But then, he wasn't really being insolent, only a bit too friendly considering she outranked him. She decided that was fine with her. She could use someone like him on her side. He was strong and would be stronger still once he learns how to use his strengths to his advantage.

"Your name, soldier?" she asked off-handedly, her tone belying her curiosity about this rookie soldier with a lot of untapped potential.

"Natsu Dragneel, sir!" came his enthusiastic reply.

She made a mental note to keep an eye on this one then pushed it to the back of her mind. Erza began prowling among the sparring soldiers, occasionally giving tips on how to fight more effectively.

"Never slacken your grip on your weapon!" she called out in frustration. The man she was addressing jumped then tightened his grip until his knuckles turned white.

"Not that tight," she sighed. Had these greenhorns never been trained properly? She had her work cut out for her if she was to turn these amateurs into real soldiers for the King's army.

"So, General Knightwalker."

She turned to Natsu who had been trailing after her as she supervised the men's training.

"You seem pretty knowledgeable about combat tactics. Your father didn't object to his daughter learning how to fight?"

"Of course not," she scoffed. "He taught me himself."

"So _that's _why you're so strong," Natsu nodded sagely. "You were tutored by the man said to have defeated five men armed with only a beer mug."

Erza suppressed a chuckle. It was amusing how gossip turned a simple bar fight into something of legend. She wondered how her father would react if he heard rumors like this. He would surely laugh and tell her that it's an honor to be thought of as legendary.

"What are your plans for this evening?"

Taken aback by the abrupt shift in their conversation, she couldn't help but analyze the implications of his seemingly innocent question. She gritted her teeth. She should have known better than to think he admired her fighting, not her appeal as a woman. How dare this impertinent, pink-headed fool even attempt to arrange a tryst!

"That's not what I meant!" he hastily explained, seeing the outraged look on her face. "Satan Soul is offering free ale for the kingdom's soldiers tonight in celebration of the owner's brother getting accepted into the army. I just thought it might interest you, is all."

"Satan Soul?" The name sounded familiar. If she wasn't mistaken, it was the tavern she'd heard the other generals talking about when they thought she wasn't listening. Apparently, Satan Soul's barmaids were quite attractive.

"Well?" Natsu asked expectantly.

Erza considered her options. She could turn down the invitation and risk being labeled a prude. Or she could accept and show him and the other soldiers that would undoubtedly be there that she wasn't a delicate, simpering society lass playing soldier for her father. It wasn't a difficult decision.

"When does it start?"

* * *

A/N: Mystogan and Erza K. are finally in the picture! Oh, and Natsu too :) The update delay was because I was having a hard time writing the fight scene between Natsu and Erza K. Action is really not my forte so I apologize if the fight wasn't very good. But I'm practicing so hopefully in the future the fights would be more exciting.

R&R please! I'm open to suggestions if I can integrate them into the story :D


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: I do not own Fairy Tail.

Sorry for the late update, people! I went camping last weekend so no internet access at all. Actually no cellphone coverage either XD But it was fun so whatever :) I went wall-climbing (didn't finish...) and airsoft (shooting cans) and paintball (in two teams). I even left a shoe behind during the obstacle race! Anyway, I learned that wall-climbing is actually very taxing on the arms and to secure footwear very well when hopping from tire to tire :) Okay, rant over. On with the story!

**To clear up confusion about Edolas and Earthland, the story is set in Edolas but all characters except Mystogan and Erza K. and those whose Earthland selves weren't featured in the manga (like Sugarboy, etc.) are the Earthland ones. I just had them live in Edolas. Story-wise, this does not in any way tie in with the events during the Edolas arc.**

* * *

"There are only two things you must keep in mind as part of the princess's personal guard," Sir Ichiya Wanderlei, head of said guard, explained as they walked briskly towards the princess's chambers. He hurried to keep up, unaccustomed to the heavy chain mail he was required to wear.

"First, since you have come highly recommended," the stout knight huffed. "Your post is beside the princess. Meaning you will not let her out of your sight. Except, of course, when she is bathing or otherwise in need of a lady's privacy. In that case, you are to place yourself in the immediate vicinity of the princess. This is a very important job, understand?"

He nodded with what he hoped was an eager expression. He really didn't need to be reminded of all these; he knew enough to know that it was imperative the princess was kept safe, seeing as she was next in line for the Edolas throne. He followed Sir Wanderlei up a flight of stairs, still cursing at the weight of his armor. It really was very inefficient, all this chain mail. How was he to move freely in case an attempt was made on the princess's life?

"Lastly," Sir Wanderlei puffed, clearly winded by their climb up. Valiantly, he kept going until he reached the top where he paused to catch his breath. "You are to address the princess as 'Your Highness' or 'Princess' only."

Without giving him a chance to respond, Sir Wanderlei rapped three times on an ornately carved mahogany door. They had arrived at the princess's chambers, he realized with a start. Looking around, he noted how isolated the princess's rooms were. The only people other than he and Sir Wanderlei were the two guards stationed at the door. That was odd; he thought there would be more soldiers stationed here.

The door opened and Sir Wanderlei slipped inside without so much as a glance back. He made to follow when the two guards sneered at him. He ignored them, already knowing what would come next.

"First they let women into the army and now children?" one of them snickered, shaking his head. "Go home, little boy. The King's army is no place for youngsters like you."

He bit back a retort. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction. As he turned to close the door behind him and left the two guards chuckling among themselves, he swore to find a way to prove them wrong, that he was more worthy of being here than they ever would be.

"Princess, I hope today finds you well?" Sir Wanderlei bowed in respect, his pointed gaze ordering him to do the same. Obediently, he kept his eyes on the ground, his posture respectful and submissive. He hadn't had a chance to see the princess yet but he had heard rumors that she was rarely seen in public. She probably thought she was too good for the company of mere commoners.

"Y-yes, I am q-quite well," a soft voice stammered. His eyebrows shot up in surprise. He had braced himself for a haughty, demanding, spoiled little princess and this meek, unsure voice threw him. He snuck a glance at his soon-to-be ward. And promptly forgot to breathe.

She was as beautiful as freshly fallen snow, with striking liquid eyes that blinked lazily at him. He had never seen such a sleekly magnificent form. Petite, elegant, his fingers ached to scratch behind her ears and bury themselves in her soft, white fur. The princess's cat was truly a marvel to behold.

"This is Eve Thylm." Sir Wanderlei's voice jerked him out of his daze. "He will be part of Your Highness's retinue."

His eyes snapped up to meet the princess's, belatedly scolding himself for this breach in etiquette. To compensate, he smiled winningly, hoping the princess wouldn't be _too_ affronted by his behavior. He was rewarded with a furious blush.

The princess herself was the complete opposite of her majestic cat. From what he could see, she was painfully shy and completely unassuming. Her downward glancing eyes were at odds with the extravagant attire she wore and the lavishness of her room.

"Well then, if I may take my leave, Your Highness," Sir Wanderlei asked. Eve could see him twitching from the effort of holding his bowed position and silently applauded him for not letting his voice betray his discomfort. But then, he shouldn't have had to do that if the princess had told him to be at ease. That the princess had forgotten to do so made him wonder if the princess was actually a bit absent-minded.

"O-Oh!" The princess, most likely having realized what she had forgotten to do, looked even more flustered. "Yes, you may, S-Sir Wanderlei."

Sir Wanderlei rose and exited the room, quietly shutting the door behind him. A hand clamped down on his shoulder firmly. With a jolt, he looked up and saw a man towering over him. Eve knew it was rude to stare but the man had such tanned skin. It was uncommon in Magnolia and now that he thought about it, there wasn't nearly enough sun during the Magnolian summer to maintain such a dark complexion.

"Eve Thylm? I'm Ren Akatsuki. And before you ask, yes, I'm not from the capital. I'm from the Bedouin clans in the deserts up north."

Eve nodded. That explained his dark skin and unusual name. He smiled, feeling that he and this Ren could become good friends. Sure, his brisk introduction wasn't quite as welcoming as he had hoped but Eve hadn't sensed any hostility from him so far. Perhaps he won't even mind teaching him the finer points of horseback riding. The Bedouins were famous for raising the best horses and being the most skilled riders in the whole of Edolas. He decided to ask later. Best make small talk first to build rapport. Or so he had been taught.

"The deserts are quite far from the capital. What brings you so far from home, Sir Akatsuki?"

Silence met his question, Sir Akatsuki's expression turning unreadable. Perhaps he shouldn't have asked about such personal matters. Again, he berated himself. He had been making far too many mistakes dealing with people today. He should have picked a more impersonal topic like the weather or the price of sugar in the market. He racked his brains for a way to salvage the situation.

"He doesn't like to be addressed as Sir Akatsuki," a feminine voice said matter-of-factly. He turned towards it and saw a young woman leaning on the wall behind the princess. She wasn't looking at him though; her teasing gaze was solely directed as Sir Akatsuki.

"He prefers to be called Ren," she added. Eve looked to him for confirmation.

"Well," he coughed. "I don't mind."

"Oh, please." She shook her head at Ren patronizingly before turning to wink playfully at Eve. "He's always like this, acting like he doesn't really care even if he does."

"Anyway," she continued. "I'm Sherry Blendi, the princess's personal maid." She smiled cordially at him. He wondered of she might already have a sweetheart.

"She can get you anything you need, be it food or drink or even water from the icy summit of Mount Alden," Ren whispered to Eve conspiratorially, his face serious but with a voice colored with amusement. Sherry made an indignant noise and the conversation dwindled to just between Ren and Sherry as they traded insults good-naturedly. Eve noticed Ren's eyes dancing with barely-suppressed mirth, Sherry coyly tucking her pink hair behind her ear, the way their bodies unconsciously gravitate towards each other. Too bad. It seems she already had her sights on someone. Pursuing her would be futile and would most likely turn Ren against him. Besides, his family wouldn't approve anyway.

Pressure against his left leg drew his attention. The princess's cat had sidled up to him and was now sniffing delicately at him. He reached down to scratch behind her ears. With a hiss and a swipe of her paw at his outstretched hand, she leapt away, back to her owner's lap.

"Charle!" The princess scolded quietly but firmly. Charle meowed unapologetically and Eve could have sworn she threw him a condescending look. The princess began speaking in a voice so soft he had to move closer and strain his ears to catch her words.

"—d-doesn't l-l-like strangers ve-very much." He could tell that much, he mused, looking down at the shallow scratches on his hand. Luckily, the cat had only grazed him and it wasn't bleeding all that much.

"It's all right," he reassured her, letting his hand drop casually to his side. For the second time that day, he met the princess's eyes. She flushed prettily, her gaze abruptly dropping down to her lap. Her fingers trembled as she nervously stroked her cat's fur. He gave himself a mental slap for his foolishness. It wasn't his place to act so familiarly towards one of the royal family, especially not towards the future ruler of Edolas.

"I apologize for my impudence, Your Highness," he said gravely, finally remembering to put his lessons on etiquette in the presence of royalty to use.

"P-Please," the princess said. "W-Wendy is just fine."

"But—"

"Please?"

She looked so hopeful that he couldn't bring himself to refuse. Well, her authority superseded Sir Wanderlei's anyway. He nodded and the princess smiled so radiantly he could have sworn his heart skipped a bit. He took a moment to regain his composure, reminding himself that he preferred older, more mature women, not little, twelve-year-old princesses with pretty blue hair. It worked.

For now.

* * *

Mystogan sat alone, hood and mask in place as he silently observed the men gleefully gulping down Satan Soul's notoriously strong ale and drunkenly ogling the barmaids. The mug in his hands was still half-full. He had barely touched it, opting to take small sips and avoid getting too drunk to do his mission. His restrained movements were garnering him curious looks though.

He cast around, hoping to spot the person he had come to meet. He didn't know what he was searching for but it provided a much-needed diversion. Master had told him he only had to wait until Magnolia's clocktower struck twelve. Whoever was to give him the message would find him himself.

As if on cue, the clock tower boomed, its echoes causing the tables in the tavern to vibrate slightly. He stood up and made his way to the tavern doors, wondering where the messenger was. Halfway to the exit, a drunken young man around his age stumbled into him. Mystogan steadied himself, wincing as the drunk leaned heavily against him.

"Sho shorry," the man slurred, moving away on shaky feet. Mystogan shook his head; this was why he disliked going to taverns. Eager to get out, he pulled the door open. His eyes widened. Before him was the face that had haunted his dreams for as long as he could remember. In the split-second their eyes met, a barrage of images flooded his mind. A war-torn battlefield strewn with the bodies of countless men. Her smiling contentedly at him as he touched her swollen belly reverently. A blood-soaked sword lying forgotten on the damp earth. Them lying amidst a meadow of primroses.

"Move."

Her commanding tone broke the spell, leaving him reeling from the emotions evoked by the images. He stepped to the side to let her pass. Her scarlet hair streamed behind her as she strode into the tavern. His eyes followed her, paying no heed to the pink-haired young man trailing behind her.

Scarlet hair.

Scarlet.

"Erza…"

* * *

A/N: Mystogan and Erza K. finally meet! Their part in this chappie was very short but don't worry. Next chappies will have a lot more MystoganErza.K moments.

Off-topic but I made Transcendent and Dust and Shadow wallpapers so if anyone's interested, check out my profile :)

Review, okay?


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: I do not own Fairy Tail.

So sorry for the late update! I've spent most of the last two weeks after the semester ended with writer's block (concerning Loke) so I haven't really given enough time to Dust and Shadow. But maybe the next chapter will come sooner than this one since I kind of already have something planned :)

To **ERZA X JELLAL LOVER **in response to your review: No, Erza isn't dead. Mystogan was just dreaming. I apologize for the confusion but hopefully the following chapters will make things clearer.

Again, I would like to inform any confused readers that the characters here are all Earthland characters with the exception of Mystogan and Erza K. and those who don't have Earthland selves like Sugarboy (if they appear, which I'm not sure of yet). And the setting is Edolas but sprinkled with additions since the Edolas kingdom didn't really have that much detail (or I just don't remember XD) I will put this notice at the start of every chapter from now on for everybody's convenience.

* * *

_Erza…_

Mystogan knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that the woman who had just walked past him was the same woman who frequented his dreams as of late, that she was called Erza and that he hadn't the slightest inkling as to how he knew her name. Though he had never seen her outside of his dreams, he felt as if he'd always known she existed somewhere, that his life up until now had been moving towards that moment their eyes met.

He shook his head dismissively, inwardly chuckling at his uncharacteristic romanticism. He steered his thoughts back to the reason he had come to Satan Soul despite his general dislike for crowded places. Someone should have met him before midnight. Mystogan wondered if the contact had somehow missed him. With a shrug, he decided that it wasn't his problem. He had stayed until midnight as he was supposed to. The Master couldn't fault his performance.

As he walked, he sensed someone tailing him. It was quite worrying that whoever was following him seemed to know what he was doing. That rules out the possibility that this was just some vagabond looking for easy gold.

He put his hands in his pockets, mimicking the casualness of the other men walking along the streets. His fingers met with rough parchment. Odd. How had that gotten into his pocket without him noticing?

* * *

_Halfway to the exit, a drunken young man around his age stumbled into him. Mystogan steadied himself, wincing as the drunk leaned heavily against him. _

"_Sho shorry," the man slurred, moving away on shaky feet._

* * *

_He was good_, Mystogan admitted with grudging respect. The man had executed a perfect pass, all the while fooling everyone, Mystogan included, with his drunken façade. And his disguise was impressive. Even now Mystogan could hardly recall what the man looked like. Perhaps he was the one following Mystogan's trail. But then, it was best not to jump to conclusions. Until proven otherwise, he should assume that the man was dangerous.

He kept walking, discreetly glancing around for anyone suspicious. No such luck. Instead he spotted a secluded area, out of direct sight of the streets. Perfect. He could lure him there and confront the stranger away without alerting the East Avenue runners on patrol.

He reached his destination, behind what looked to be an abandoned house. Judging from the boarded-up windows and broken-down door, it has been empty for quite a while. Mystogan leaned against the wall, waiting for the man to show himself.

When the minutes ticked by and the man made no move to reveal himself, Mystogan took out the parchment and made a show of squinting at it. If the drunk man from the tavern wasn't the same man hiding in the shadows now, seeing the parchment—which he assumed could be the only reason anyone would be following him after he left Satan Soul—would prompt him to move. And if the two were one and the same, then it would be no surprise to him that Mystogan had the parchment. He had nothing to lose and this way, he could at least gain insight into whether they were on the same side or not.

"It's a simple cipher. I trust you can decode it?" A voice came from behind him. So they _were_ on the same side. Mystogan kept his gaze level, knowing better than to look in its direction. It was better for the both of them if he didn't know the identity of the stranger; it would help preserve the integrity of their spy network. One could not betray what one does not know.

He looked down at the parchment. He could make out letters but they seemed to form no words he could recognize. A preliminary glance failed to give him any idea as to what the message is. He folded that parchment in half, deciding to analyze it more thoroughly when he returned to camp.

"Is this all?" Mystogan held up the parchment between his fingers, raising it enough for the man to see.

"Yes. Be sure to decipher it by tomorrow evening," the man replied. His voice sounded muffled, probably from a mask not unlike Mystogan's own.

Mystogan nodded and began to make his way away from the abandoned house. After a few steps, out of curiosity, he glanced back.

The man was gone.

* * *

"Are you certain you should be up and about already, Mr. Wellington?"

Loke quickly hid his injured left hand behind his back. Hopefully, Porlyusica hasn't spotted it yet.

"You haven't yet fully recovered, correct?"

"I feel quite fine, actually," he replied with gusto. The stern frown on her elderly features—a sight he was _quite _familiar with—made him feel like a disobedient child. Not at all pleasant. "I was just checking whether the roses had been watered."

"I see." Porlyusica cocked an eyebrow, an obvious sign she didn't believe him one bit. Well, he hadn't really expected her to. They both knew the reason he spent so much time in the rosebush maze: Lucy's window on the second storey directly overlooked it. The first thing he does every morning is to come to the benches by the maze entrance and wait for her to come to her window, passing the time with a little wood-whittling.

He grinned guiltily at the woman he had come to consider a mother after his passed away. He never could get away with anything under her watchful gaze.

"Well then," Porlyusica said. "When you are done 'watering the roses', I have some books that I would like to return to an old friend. This afternoon, if you please."

She turned, cane in hand, and started toward the main house. Porlyusica paused mid-stride.

"And Mr. Wellington," she added. "You'd best dress that cut on your hand properly or you'll risk infection. Try to be more careful with your little wood-carving knives next time."

Loke considered correcting her terminology—he doesn't carve, he whittles; there's a difference—but decided it didn't really matter if he didn't have the last word. There was no winning against Porlyusica; he and Lucy had learned that the first day she had swept into the Heartphilia estate and all but demanded she be instated as Lucy's governess.

He looked down at his make-shift bandage. It wasn't that grievous an injury, despite the seemingly copious amount of blood staining the thin cloth. He would have no problem delivering Porlyusica's books. But that would mean taking time away from his duties at the estate.

Loke sighed. It seems he won't be able to come to their nightly rendezvous. He had so been looking forward to it, too…

He sat down, took out his knife and a small piece of cedar wood, and began working.

* * *

Lucy opened her eyes, blinking blearily against the sunlight streaming into her room from the window. The curtains have been drawn. Virgo must have already come up. She must have decided Lucy needed more sleep; the servants had most likely found out that she had been staying with Loke for the better part of yesterday and the night before that until Porlyusica told her to stop hovering and go rest in her room. If it had been anyone other than Loke, she'd be worried about them spreading scandalous gossip but she knew that all the servants were fond of both her and Loke and wouldn't risk exposing them—well, mostly him—to her father's fury.

She let out a yawn, stretching her limbs as she looked around if Virgo had brought out her day dress. Lucy hoped her father would not call for her to join him for breakfast. She'd always preferred dining in her room in the company of Virgo and, when her father was away, Loke.

Something on her windowsill caught her eye. Lucy padded over to it in her velvet slippers. She leaned lightly against the windowsill, breathing in the scent of roses in full bloom as she studied the object that had called her attention.

_An apple_, Lucy thought, turning it over in her hands. It was wood, just like the little pieces Loke kept leaving around her room for her to find. She pondered on what Loke wanted to tell her with this. A knock on the door interrupted her musings.

"Miss Heartphilia, may I come in?"

It was her maid, Mary, although Lucy and most, if not all, the servants of the Heartphilia family address her as Virgo—as she was born a Virgo—upon her verbal discontent over the her mundane name. Lucy closed her hand over the wooden apple. The wood sculptures were hers and Loke's, something only the two of them knew about and was strangely unwilling to share even with her closest female friend.

"Of course, Virgo."

"Your father requests your presence for breakfast," Virgo said, closing the door behind her without a sound.

"I suppose it is because he wants to talk about my coming-out ball," Lucy frowned. She disliked going to balls where she would have to endure Karen Lilica's thinly-veiled insults to her and her father. And there was no doubt Karen Lilica would be invited to her coming-out ball. She wouldn't put it past her to ignore the invitation out of spite. Lucy sat at the vanity with a sigh, allowing Virgo to arrange her blonde locks into something her father would deem acceptable.

As she sat waiting for Virgo to finish, she thought about what the apple could mean. There was always a message hidden in Loke's carvings, just like the strings of seemingly random letters on foolscap she sends to Loke through Virgo. Perhaps a different perspective would help her decipher the meaning behind the apple.

"Virgo, what is the significance of an apple?"

"I have always associated apples with health," Virgo tried, her characteristic soft voice rising almost imperceptibly, belying her bewilderment about the sudden question.

Lucy nodded which Virgo chastised her for in her usual mild even-toned manner. Apples and health? That could mean that leaving the apple was Loke's way of telling her he was recovered.

"But that wasn't the case with Snow White," Lucy barely heard Virgo whisper to herself.

True. The apple in that story meant danger. So does red, the usual color of an apple. So that's what it was. How clever. He had managed to tell her that he was fine but couldn't come tonight for some reason—perhaps another one of those errands Porlyusica has been sending him on recently—through a single wooden carving no larger than her fist.

Virgo put the brush down, signaling that she was done. Taking her cue, Lucy got up and walked to her closet to pick out her day dress. Without sparing much thought, she chose a red dress with white trim. Virgo helped her with her stays, Lucy wincing at the chafing of the new whalebone corset her father had presented her with recently. Through all this, she kept a tight grip on the wooden apple. Once she was ready, she turned to her maid.

"Well then, best not keep Father waiting."

* * *

"Is everything ready?"

"Yes, milady. My people are in place. Everything is according to plan."

"Good."

Silk petticoats rustled in movement, an ornate fan hid blood-red lips and a secretive smile.

"The stage is set. Tomorrow, the first act begins."

* * *

A/N: Pretty short chapter. I was planning on something different (more action-laden) but decided that I need a good transition to explain things. So hopefully, the next chapter will be longer and more exciting.

And since Loke has no last name, I gave him one in this story. I didn't want to give him a family name that's related to lions (in English or any other language) so I chose something that seemed to fit with the environment (what with the lords and ladies and whatnot, Wellington sounded right).

Review, please?


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: I do not own Fairy Tail.

* * *

Lucy heaved a sigh. The clatter of horseshoes on cobblestones filled her ears, the stifling air in the carriage making her wish, for the thousandth time that evening, that she didn't have to attend the King's banquet.

* * *

"_Good morning, Father," Lucy said with a respectful bow. Her father sat at the head of the table, grim-faced as always. He acknowledged her with a slight nod. Lucy took her usual place at the other end of the long dining table. As if on cue, servants placed food—toast, butter, marmalade, among others—before them. _

"_Thank you, Edward." Lucy smiled at the elderly man pouring her a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. He winked at her then retreated back to the kitchens._

"_Lucy, how many times must I tell you that you must not associate yourself with those of lower station?"_

_Lucy lowered her gaze to her plate so that her father wouldn't see the anger she felt at the way he dismissed those he deemed inferior. _

"_I apologize, Father."_

"_Well, as long as you understand." He took a bite of buttered toast. The rest of the meal was quiet, just like every breakfast they shared. Lucy ate as quickly as she could without seeming unlady-like. As much as she'd like to just eat the way she wanted to, the way she always ate when she breakfasted with everyone in the kitchens, she knew that doing that would just result in someone__—_not her, it's never her_—_getting punished.  


_ The uncomfortable silence pressed in on her and she longed for the meals she shared with Loke and the others when her father was too busy to get her to arrange formal breakfasts like today. She missed the way all the food was just piled on her plate and no one cared if she made a mess.  
_

_Finally done with her meal, she put down her utensils—knife across the upper portion of the plate, fork just beside—and made to stand, suppressing a sigh of relief. The ordeal was over. _

"_Do not forget to prepare for the King's banquet tonight."_

_ Her father, also finished with his breakfast, addressed her with a stern glance. Lucy knew that arguing with her father when he was like this was futile. She wouldn't be able to weasel her way out of attending._

"_Yes, Father."_

* * *

"We have arrived, Miss Heartphilia."

Lucy started at the click of the carriage door opening. Following her father's lead, she moved to exit the carriage. Lucy accepted the coachman's gloved hand and alighted from the vehicle, careful not to snag her voluminous skirts.

"I must say, you look captivating tonight, princess," the coachman spoke quietly.

Her head snapped up, her wide-eyed gaze met by a pair of laughing green eyes.

"Loke!" she gasped. Her gaze flicked towards her father, looking for signs that he heard Loke. "What are you—?"

"Lucy, come," her father commanded. He didn't seem to have noticed their little exchange. Loke gave her hand a gentle squeeze then let go. He stepped back and bowed.

"Have a good night, Miss."

Lucy, still pondering on the reason why Loke and not Darius had driven the carriage, walked towards her father. Well, she can ask him later. Together, father and daughter entered the royal palace.

* * *

"The Right Honorable Lord Heartphilia and his daughter, Miss Lucy Heartphilia!"

_Finally. Here she comes._

Hibiki looked towards the entrance. He had been waiting the whole time for her to arrive. She looked enchanting in her pastel pink dress, her blonde hair falling in graceful ringlets on her shoulders.

With a hastily constructed excuse, he extricated himself from the women around him. Ignoring their protests, he strode purposefully towards the Heartphilias. He weaved among the gaily-dressed crowd, waving away attempts to draw him into conversation.

"Lord Heartphilia, a pleasant evening," he greeted the older man with a welcoming smile.

"Quite pleasant, of course, Your Grace," he replied hastily as he bowed. Beside him, Miss Heartphilia hurriedly curtsied.

"I couldn't help but notice those magnificent horses of yours," Hibiki said. He hadn't really; he just knew that the baron had bought them recently and was quite proud of them. He figured it was a good topic to open up the conversation.

"Yes. Lovely, weren't they?" the baron replied.

"Such majestic animals they were indeed," Hibiki said.

The baron, more animated than Hibiki had ever seen him, went on about his precious horses. Hibiki made a show of listening intently while he observed the lady standing across from him. Miss Heartphilia was more interesting than a couple of horses.

Her hair was indeed the same golden hue as the person he had encountered in the Lilica gardens. Looking at her now, he couldn't believe he had mistaken her for a boy.

Sensing that the baron was just about done with his story of how he acquired his horses and was about to segue into a different story, Hibiki cast around for a distraction. He did not wish to be talking about horses the whole night.

"My lord, it is almost time for the dancing to begin. If I may have the pleasure of dancing the first set with your lovely daughter?"

"P-Pardon?" the baron sputtered, clearly not expecting such a request.

"That is, of course," he added with a charming smile directed at the blushing girl before him, "if the lady permits."

Hibiki thought she looked quite fetching with flushed cheeks. She noticed his stare and quickly brought up her feathered fan to cover her face.

"Lucy!" Her father hissed a warning at her under his breath.

She lowered her fan, the redness in her cheeks subsiding.

"Of course, Your Grace."

She handed him her dance card, suspicion hiding behind her shy gaze. She must have heard of his reputation. He inwardly smiled. It seems she was more sensible than most of the female nobles.

Looking down at the card, Hibiki noticed that it had no signatures on it at all.

_Such a beauty should not have to be a wallflower._

Hibiki signed the card with a flourish then addressed the lady.

"May I recommend some acquaintances of mine, Miss? I know they would be honored to dance with one as charming as you."

"Why, she wouldn't mind that at all," the baron quickly burst out. "Isn't that right, Lucy?"

A slight nod from the lady was all the answer he needed. Perfect.

"Well, then," Hibiki said. He wrote down the names of the people he had in mind then handed it back to Miss Heartphilia. Impulsively, he pressed a kiss to the back of her gloved hand.

"If you'll excuse me," he said.

He walked away, catching a glimpse of Karen Lilica's dumbstruck expression. Ah, she saw that. It doesn't matter now; he no longer had to play nice with her. She had served her purpose.

Hibiki chanced another glance back at Miss Heartphilia and found her staring pensively at her dance card. Any woman would have been ecstatic to be handed a chance to dance with the most eligible bachelor in Edolas.

_Interesting._

* * *

"Yuka, what did the princess look like again?" Toby asked. He scratched his head then winced as he accidentally scratched himself.

"Lyon said she had blue hair," Yuka answered tersely. He tried not to move so as not to make any noise. His legs were cramping from crouching in the bushes for so long.

"Hey, is she really going to be here?" Toby whined. "I'm tired."

"Just wait, you impatient fool."

Just then, Yuka spotted a girl, finely dressed with blue hair cascading down her back.

"Blue hair, Yuka," Toby whispered loudly. "It's her!"

"I know," he replied irritably. Finally she showed up.

"We'll wait for a chance then I'll grab her. Get ready."

* * *

Eve leaned back against the stone wall and closed his eyes. Being part of the princess's personal guard had sounded difficult so he had pounced on the opportunity to prove his worth—to prove that he was just as good as his elder brothers. He had no idea that it would be this, well, boring. He thought there would be assassination attempts almost every hour of the day. Clearly, he was wrong. All he'd done today was keep the princess company. Of course, it wasn't that bad; she was a nice girl. Besides, it was fun watching Ren and Sherry trade playful comments about each other.

"So, how do you like the princess so far?" Ren asked with a grin. He sat by the other side of the door to the princess's room while Eve stood on the other side. His scimitar hung loosely from his belt.

"She's nothing like I expected," Eve replied.

Ren laughed. "Did you expect her to be a spoiled brat or something?"

"Mm."

A comfortable silence followed, interrupted only by the sounds of Sherry helping the princess prepare for tonight's banquet. They were in quite a hurry; the princess was to be ready by the time supper came around, which would be in a quarter of an hour.

"Do you think Sherry's pretty?"

Eve, startled, racked his mind for the appropriate answer. If he said yes, Ren might misconstrue that as a sign that he was interested in her. If he said no, he might challenge him to a duel to defend Sherry's honor.

"Well—" Eve began.

A scream pierced the cool night air. Ren jumped to his feet, a hand already at the hilt of his scimitar. Eve drew his sword quickly, steel hissing against the leather scabbard. Ren nodded at him. A split second later he had kicked the door down, its latch hanging broken. They rushed in just in time to see a dark figure carrying an unconscious Wendy disappear into a trapdoor hidden under the carpet by the fireplace.

"Sherry!"

She was sprawled out on the floor, a cut on her forehead bleeding heavily. Ren cradled her in his arms, frantically calling out her name repeatedly. Sherry's eyelids fluttered, her hand coming up to touch the wound. Ren quickly tore off his sleeve and pressed it to the gash, trying to staunch the bleeding.

Eve knew that every moment was crucial if they were to recover the princess unharmed. But he also knew that Ren would not leave Sherry here injured. He could only imagine how torn Ren must feel to have to choose between his duty and his heart.

_Guess it's up to me, then._

"Ren, I'll go follow them. You stay here and take care of Sherry," Eve said shortly.

Without waiting for an answer, he jumped down into the darkness.

* * *

Eve ran through the tunnel, his mind racing. There shouldn't have been anyone else who knew of the secret tunnel in the princess's room. Hibiki had told him the palace tunnels were a closely guarded secret. Eve had only been told in case the princess needed a secure hiding place.

_Has Hibiki's spy network been compromised?_

His blood ran cold. If it has, then the whole kingdom is in danger. Eve shook his head. It was entirely possible that the person who had taken the princess had found the tunnel by snooping around the palace.

_Of course, that's got to be it. He just got lucky, is all._

His confidence boosted, he turned his thought back to the current situation.

_ This tunnel, he knew, led to—_

Something struck his head from behind. His vision went black.

_Damn it._

* * *

A/N: So sorry for the late update. Been busy playing Grand Chase for a while ^o^ and I stopped reading the manga for a while. But then I decided to start again and so my FT muse has been revived \*.*/

Oh, and Darius is Sagittarius minus the horse costume. I couldn't get away with calling him Sagittarius so I went with Darius XD

Review? If anyone is still reading this -.-

Oh, and I made slight changes in the previous chappies so just thought I'd give everyone a heads-up.


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